


the art of scraping through

by maviswrites



Series: every step that i ran to you [2]
Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Christ I hope this is funny, Comedy, Crack Treated Seriously, Denise is a badass, F/M, Garcyatt, Human Disaster Garcia Flynn, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, Idiots in Love, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Jealous Lucy Preston, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Multi, Mutual Pining, Not Canon Compliant - s02e11-12 The Miracle of Christmas (Timeless), Polyamory, Sub Wyatt Logan, Threesome - F/M/M, Wyatt Logan's Bisexuality Crisis, because i can't ever think of wyatt as anything but a sub, but it's just the temporary character death from the prequel story, in that all three of them are pining for each other at the same time... because they are all idiots, is mentioned as is, there is no sex but i'll get to it eventually I SWEAR
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-07
Updated: 2019-11-07
Packaged: 2021-01-25 03:41:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21349657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maviswrites/pseuds/maviswrites
Summary: Lucy had decided that the universe hated her. It should probably have been clear already, from her parents’ betrayals to her sister’s disappearance from existence to that one time she’d been stranded in the eighteenth century.But no, this was the straw that broke the camel’s back and revealed to her exactly just how much the cosmos despised her… and wanted her to know it. The fact that Wyatt and Flynn had stumbled into the kitchen thirty minutes after her, while she’d been pensively sitting at the table and pretending she was going to finish her bowl of cereal eventually, and Flynn’s shirt was buttoned up wrong and Wyatt’s hair was a mess. And now, they were sitting with her eating breakfast. And they were playingfootsieunder the table.Worst of all, they thought she didn’tnotice.//In which Wyatt and Flynn (unsuccessfully) try to keep their relationship a secret, Lucy is jealous and pretends not to be, and everyone else in the bunker wishes they'd all get their shit together.
Relationships: Garcia Flynn/Lucy Preston, Garcia Flynn/Wyatt Logan, Garcia Flynn/Wyatt Logan/Lucy Preston, Rufus Carlin/Jiya, Wyatt Logan/Lucy Preston
Series: every step that i ran to you [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1539106
Comments: 2
Kudos: 26





	the art of scraping through

**Author's Note:**

> "To somehow escape the burning weight  
The art of scraping through..."  
-Hozier, "Someone New"
> 
> A sequel to "the shock, the grief, the joy of it all." You need to read that first to understand what's going on here.
> 
> So this fic was supposed to be a lot of things: fluff, angst, smut, you name it... it ended up being a lot of crack treated seriously. I'm tentatively planning a third part in which we get actual smut like I'd planned. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

Wyatt was sitting on the bed, feeling more nervous than he should have been.

He’d stripped off the shirt he’d thrown on before meeting Flynn in the bathroom, leaving only his boxers on, and was feeling more than a little embarrassed at how… confused Flynn’s expression was. _What, exactly, is he waiting for?_ The older man hadn’t even taken a step toward finishing what they’d started. Instead, they just sat there for several awkward seconds, Wyatt unwilling to push forward if Flynn had changed his mind. Finally, under Flynn’s contemplative gaze, he snapped, “What? You never seen a naked man before?”

Flynn blinked, as if surprised by Wyatt’s sudden outburst, then barked out a laugh from where he stood before Wyatt, still completely dressed. “It’s not that,” he chuckled. “I was just thinking… you changed the sheets. Before you came and met me.”

“Oh,” said Wyatt, mollified, though embarrassed for a completely different reason now. “Well, yeah, I figured I sweated through the ones from last night, and I didn’t wanna leave you with gross sheets—”

“You had no idea you were coming back here,” Flynn interrupted.

Folding his arms over his chest, unable to ignore the self-conscious voice screaming inside his head, Wyatt frowned. “No,” he said slowly, as if the information would drill itself into Flynn’s head better if he did so. “I was just being—”

“Considerate,” Flynn finished for him.

A tinge made its way to his cheeks. “Yeah,” he muttered, turning away.

Flynn knelt before him on the bed, and Wyatt’s libido noted that Flynn was so tall that he could still meet Wyatt’s eyes in that position without having to look up. “That is so sexy of you,” Flynn said fervently, and then he was kissing Wyatt full on the mouth, trying to lick his way inside of him.

It took a moment for Wyatt to take in the words. Abruptly, he put his hands on either side of Flynn’s face and used the hold to pry them apart with a loud smack. “You find me changing the sheets sexy?” he asked breathlessly. “Like, seriously? That’s a turn-on for you?”

“I think,” Flynn said, moving around for a better hold, “that everything you do is a turn-on. But that was a nice, considerate one, yes.”

Wyatt became conscious of the fact that Flynn’s hands had readjusted themselves in order to thoroughly grope his ass. “Okay,” he said, deciding he could not really judge when, honestly, everything Flynn did had been a turn-on practically since they’d met. Admittedly, that whole kidnapping-him-and-tying-him-to-a-chair incident had been an annoying turn-on, but it had been one, nonetheless.

“Look, it’s been a while, okay?” Flynn retorted, but his voice didn’t hold any heat.

Banter. This, Wyatt could do, and he could do well. “Oh, has it?” He paused for dramatic effect. “…Old man?”

“Old—?” Flynn’s voice reached a higher pitch before he cut himself off. “Oh, I see,” he murmured. He leaned in, using one hand to grab Wyatt by the jaw and hold him still. “I see. You’re trying to get a rise out of me.”

Wyatt’s breath caught. Flynn’s fingers were warm on his jaw, pinning him without any real force. He didn’t want to move at all, anyway, so it worked out. “Maybe,” he smirked.

“You,” Flynn continued, a sly grin on his face, “want me to _punish_ you.”

Punish? Wyatt automatically frowned, thinking of his own past experience with the term, but then his thoughts took a different direction. _Punishment basically means rough sex,_ his internal monologue suggested, trying to bring him around to the idea. _And if there’s anyone you want to have rough sex with… it’s Flynn._

Confidence reassured, Wyatt tilted his head forward, nipping at the hand that Flynn was using to hold his face. “Maybe,” he repeated, theatrically looking up at Flynn from under his lashes.

“Oh,” Flynn’s grin widened, “you are _so_ asking for it, Logan.”

“Well, if I’m asking for it…” Wyatt pushed himself away, back on the bed, causing Flynn to frown until he realized that Wyatt was spreading out on the bed, leaving himself completely open. When he was finished, he laid spread-eagle on the bed, head on a pillow, arms at his sides. Flynn rose from his kneeling position to survey the sight. 

“If?” Flynn raised an eyebrow quizzically.

“If I’m asking for it,” Wyatt reasserted dramatically, looking like something out of a cringey porn video but also, strangely, Flynn’s wildest fantasies, “guess you’re just gonna have to give it to me.”

Okay, this was something Flynn could get used to.

Lucy had had, that morning, the misfortune of being unable to sleep in. For one thing, she had fallen asleep ridiculously early the night before, to make up for the insomnia she’d experienced over the last few days as a result of Flynn’s temporary death. For another thing, it was approximately 7:30 in the morning when she heard some… interesting sounds coming from the room next to hers.

For yet another thing, it took her about two minutes to determine that it was _not_ the room on her left side—where Jiya and Rufus usually shared a bed—but instead her right side, where Flynn slept. Alone.

Well, obviously he wasn’t alone right now. And it didn’t take much guessing to figure out who he was with. Jiya and Rufus seemed about as monogamous as they came. Denise was very happy at home, with Michelle. And Connor… she shook her head, the unbidden image in her mind not even worth weighing. That only left one option.

She heard a bit of a shout—stifled, as if the person uttering it had tried too late to keep quiet—and instantly recognized the voice, confirming what she’d been thinking. Wyatt.

Sitting on the edge of her bed, hands clenched in her lap, Lucy wasn’t sure what to feel. Wyatt had always seemed so obviously straight, and hell-bent on avoiding anything that implied otherwise. For God’s sake, he mentioned his dead wife in every other conversation! Though, of course, so did Flynn, who had also seemed straight as an arrow.

Another shout, this one unmistakably Flynn’s. _Clearly, I was wrong,_ she thought. She grimaced. It was a little weird, the thought that the two men—both of whom had expressed interest in her, and whom she’d expressed some interest in—would be together. Maybe it was a one-night stand? Everything could go back to normal by tomorrow. But also, what if it was something bigger? Something more long-term?

Lucy bit at her lip. She couldn’t help feeling like she’d missed out on something. Flynn… Wyatt… both of them, maybe? She shook her head and stood. She’d missed her chance, clearly, with the both of them, and if they wanted to find comfort in each other… so be it. She’d deal. Either way, it felt wrong to be listening to them, even if she hadn’t exactly chosen to do so.

Determined, if a little resigned, she headed to the kitchen to make herself some cereal and a very, very strong pot of coffee.

“Flynn, _God_—” Wyatt clenched his teeth as Flynn bit at a sensitive spot on his throat.

“What?” Flynn taunted, pulling away to lie on his side, facing Wyatt. “You like that?”

“Mm, yes.” Wyatt turned, propping his head up on his elbow to look Flynn in the eye. “That… all of that… was amazing. I’m—I don’t know what to say.”

Satisfied, Flynn grunted and rolled on his back. “Don’t say anything. Gimme a second to breathe, then we can go for round two. Do something _besides_ jerk each other off.”

“Hey, I’m good for anything,” Wyatt said, trying to hide his nerves. He gulped, clenched his fingers in the sheets for resolve, and faux-casually proposed, “I’ve never given a guy a blowjob before but… hey, first time for everything, right? We could try that… if you want.”

Flynn cracked one eye open at the thought, aware that he was suddenly nearly fully aroused again. “Well, it appears you do wonders on my refractory period,” he said dryly, rolling over again until he was pressed on top of Wyatt’s chest. He ran his fingers through Wyatt’s hair. “Of course, I could give _you_ one. Bet you’d love that, huh? But what’s more punishment… me sucking you off, not letting you come even if you’re begging for it, making you wait forever? Or getting you to suck me off and not letting you touch yourself at all?”

Squirming, Wyatt looked up into Flynn’s eyes, which were deceptively passive, waiting for his answer as though he couldn’t care less, even though he could feel Flynn’s erection pressed against him. “Do… do whatever you want,” he said eagerly. He was already breathless. “Whatever you want, Flynn, please.”

“Right answer,” Flynn smirked, leaning in to press a hard kiss to Wyatt’s mouth.

Yeah, yeah, he could _definitely_ be into this whole “punishment” thing.

Lucy had decided that the universe hated her. It should probably have been clear already, from her parents’ betrayals to her sister’s disappearance from existence to that one time she’d been stranded in the eighteenth century.

But no, this was the straw that broke the camel’s back and revealed to her exactly just how much the cosmos despised her… and wanted her to know it. The fact that Wyatt and Flynn had stumbled into the kitchen thirty minutes after her, while she’d been pensively sitting at the table and pretending she was going to finish her bowl of cereal eventually, and Flynn’s shirt was buttoned up wrong and Wyatt’s hair was a mess. And now, they were sitting with her eating breakfast. And they were playing _footsie_ under the table.

Worst of all, they thought she didn’t _notice_.

It almost felt like an insult to her intelligence, apart from the fact that she knew they weren’t paying attention to her. Well—okay, that was unfair. Both of them paid attention to her. They’d both told her good morning, and struck up small talk, and tried incredibly hard to pretend that they’d just _happened_ to walk into the kitchen at the same time. But they were obviously paying more attention to each other, at the expense of actually being discreet.

It felt almost sweet, the fact that they were trying to preserve her feelings. It was just that it made her dignity feel like it was being crushed by a steamroller. _Slowly._

Lucy heaved out a sigh when Wyatt accidentally kicked her while trying to run his foot up Flynn’s leg. She stood up with her bowl and, judging by the way Flynn choked on his toast, Wyatt had succeeded in his efforts on his second try. “Well,” she smiled cheerily, wishing she was somewhere, anywhere else, “I think I’m done with breakfast. I’m probably just gonna read in my room, unless we get an alert. See you guys later!”

Shoving her bowl in the sink and leaving as quickly as she could, she thankfully missed the steamy looks Wyatt and Flynn were shooting each other.

A few hours later, she was sitting on the couch watching some sort of sports game, too distracted by her thoughts to actually identify the sport. There was a… ball, or something. She idly played with the lip of her beer bottle.

Rufus sat beside her, working on his computer. “It’s eleven in the morning,” he remarked with confusion, gesturing to her beer.

“Is that a question or a condemnation?” Lucy said, biting back some but not all of the snark in her tone, and took a drink.

“Uh… Question?” he tried.

“Then yes,” she responded, flipping the channel, “it is, in fact, eleven in the morning. We are, in fact, trapped in this bunker, and right now my options are drink and watch TV or sit and watch the paint peel off the walls.”

Rufus cleared his throat, as if he were afraid to speak. “You could, uh, you could go hang out with Wyatt? Or Flynn? And leave me alone and stop making those scary faces?”

Lucy laughed dryly. “I don’t think hanging out with either of them is a good idea right now,” she muttered. It sucked, because she didn’t want to be jealous. Worse, she didn’t even know who she was jealous _of_, if she was being entirely honest. Grimacing, she tried to swallow down the ugly feelings she didn’t want to feel and flashed a fake smile toward Rufus. “Sorry, just… not in a great mood right now.”

“I get it,” Rufus nodded sagely. “I don’t think the food in the ’30s yesterday really agreed with me. Something like that?”

“Something like that.” She drank down more of her beer, decided against going for a second one before it was even noon, and settled back to repress her feelings and ignore anything even slightly sexual between Flynn and Wyatt.

It had been a week, and exactly no one could ignore Flynn and Wyatt having sex anymore.

Lucy, who felt like she’d been sitting on this couch so long she was sinking into it, huffed out a breath as she heard them laughing from the shower. The water was so hot, steam had been coming out from under the door when she’d passed it earlier.

Everyone was aware of how much sex Flynn and Wyatt had been having over the past week. In the shower, in Flynn’s bed, in Wyatt’s bed, possibly even elsewhere in the bunker, though where else, Lucy really didn't want to know.

For God’s sake, she was pretty sure she had stumbled on the tail-end of Flynn giving Wyatt a handjob in a warehouse in 1947, during an otherwise very serious _mission_. The two men had sprung apart like she’d caught them plotting a murder, and Wyatt had even had the audacity to _whistle_, like some cheesy, guilty cartoon character. Flynn had just avoided her eyes like she was Medusa, sent to turn him to stone.

At this point, she almost wished she could turn them to stone, just to be spared the _noises_.

Jiya wandered in from where she’d been working with Connor on their tech-y stuff and groaned when she heard the laughter and running water. “Seriously?” she grumbled. “How are they _still_ going at it like two rabbits in mating season?”

Everyone else in the bunker had reacted better than Lucy had expected, honestly. Rufus, who she’d anticipated the most complaining from, had simply shrugged and mumbled something about how it was a tiny space, and everyone needed stress relievers. Connor made no comment, though she’d seen some eye rolls at how obvious Flynn and Wyatt were being. Other than the occasional complaint about the noise levels, like now, Jiya had seemed pretty supportive of the two men starting a relationship. Of course, with Denise, Lucy wasn’t even aware if the older woman knew, since she kept her opinions to herself.

Though honestly, at this point, how could she _not_ know? How could anyone in the vicinity, with working eyes and/or ears, not _know_?

“Beats me,” Lucy shook her head. Jiya groaned again and slumped onto the couch beside her, turning up the volume on the TV to drown out the laughter they could still, annoyingly, hear.

The worst thing was—actually, screw it, there were too many weird things about this situation to categorize from best to worst—the mostly oddly _hilarious_, yet horribly unfunny thing was, she was pretty sure Wyatt and Flynn still thought no one knew. No one had directly mentioned the change in how they acted around each other… or how much sex they were obviously, and somewhat loudly, having. Lucy was under the impression that they thought they were keeping it under the radar, keeping it a _secret_.

It was almost cute. It would have been cute, except she wanted to kill them. (And she’d been having a strange recurring dream over the past couple days, in which both men were shirtless and going at it until one of them looked at her and said, “Lucy, why don’t you join—”)

Nope. Nope. She yanked at the metaphorical plug in her brain until the fantasy went away. _There are some things so wildly out of reach they are not even worth thinking over,_ she reminded herself harshly. _Now, for God’s sake, pull it together and watch some Animal Planet with Jiya._

A laugh echoed from the bathroom, shower still running, and, resigned, she turned up the volume. Jiya made no comment.

It didn't escape her notice that the documentary was on animal mating habits, but she refused to acknowledge that particular blow. Her pride was already bruised all over.

“All right, this is ridiculous,” Connor hissed out.

Wyatt looked up in confusion at the older man from where they were hiding from Rittenhouse. It was almost cliché, really, how many times they got caught behind wooden crates in warehouses, avoiding spies in the past, but what can you do? “I agree,” he huffed, “which is why I’m trying to do surveillance until we can get out of here, remember?”

Hiding just behind him, Flynn pressed a warm hand to his lower back, and Wyatt held back a smile, feeling his irritation simmer down.

“No! That!” Connor snapped. “The way you two are the most obvious couple on the planet, no matter what decade we’re in! _That_ is ridiculous!”

He and Flynn froze in unison.

“I mean, honestly,” Connor continued in a hushed rant, “I understand why you two thought you could get away with it for a few days, maybe, but it’s been weeks, and this is just nonsense. Jiya thinks it’s hysterical at this point, of course, and Rufus is too polite to say anything, and Lucy is having a sexual crisis and truly believes nobody else notices, making her just as bad as you two, and Denise is far too professional to even acknowledge it, but you two need to cut it out! For my sanity, if nothing else! It is 1907, do you realize what will happen if you two get caught because you think no one else will catch on to your not-fooling-anybody act and inconspicuous footsie sessions? You will get arrested! And two black men and a woman are not going to be able to get you out of whatever prison they stash you in without _definitely_ changing history! So for the love of NASA, _snap out of it_!” Connor finished, turning away.

Flynn’s hand dropped abruptly from Wyatt’s back. They knelt there in silence for a minute, too stunned to speak. Wyatt was fervently grateful that they’d been separated from the rest of the team, and no one else had heard them getting chewed out.

God, had everyone known? Why hadn’t anyone said anything?

Meanwhile, Flynn’s mind had obviously switched to a different track. “Sexual crisis?” he murmured in Wyatt’s ear. “What do you think that means? And when can we find out?”

Wyatt swallowed heavily, spotted the Rittenhouse spy turning the corner, and lifted up his gun before he was forced to answer.

Luckily, there had been no injuries and Lucy and Rufus had reunited with them safely. Unluckily, now that they had been popped out of their honeymoon bubble, it was impossible not to notice just how uncomfortable Lucy was around the two of them. Still, Wyatt was sure she wasn’t homophobic—Amy had been a lesbian, he knew, and Lucy had supported her while she still existed, and besides, Lucy was far too good of a person for that—so the discomfort had to come from something else.

“Was there ever anything like this in Lucy’s journal?” he asked Flynn, lowly, that night while they laid in his bed. They’d switched from Flynn’s to his, out of a newfound respect for what Lucy might have been hearing through the admittedly thin walls. Besides, he kind of liked being squished together in his smaller bed—it gave him an excuse to lay on top of Flynn’s chest and ignore the other man’s teasing complaints about how heavy he was.

Flynn chuckled. “No, but there have been plenty of things that have happened that were never mentioned in there. I have no idea if it’s things she left out to avoid me changing them, or things that were changed just by me having it. It’s impossible to tell.”

“So, it’s possible that we were together in future Lucy’s timeline, and she just didn’t write it down?”

“Maybe she didn’t want to unnerve me,” Flynn shrugged. “After all, we did kind of used to hate each other." 

“But why wouldn’t she write it in the journal? She wrote down her feelings for… both of… us… in the journal… crap.” Wyatt exhaled. “Okay, crap.”

Flynn immediately got it. Raising an eyebrow imperiously, he rubbed a hand up and down Wyatt’s back. “You can’t seriously think she’s jealous.”

He shrugged. “Maybe not jealous, exactly. But we know she has feelings for both of us, and I guess that explains the ‘sexual crisis’ Connor was bitching about.”

Flynn contemplated that for a second. “Crap. What do we do about it?”

“I…” Wyatt hesitated, then gave a tiny smile. His chest filled with hope when Flynn returned the smile. “I think I have an idea or two.”

Lucy had, thus far, resigned herself to some truly weird mornings. Whether it was avoiding the lovestruck couple or finding herself beamed back to 1762 with only ten minutes’ warning, she knew that anything could happen.

But this was really weird.

Flynn and Wyatt had entered the kitchen that morning, as per usual, right when she was starting to feel comfortable in a room. Sighing in resignation to herself, she’d started to put away the box of cereal she had been about to open.

“What are you doing?” Flynn asked innocently, lingering behind her as Wyatt moved closer.

“Just… uh, heading back to my room,” Lucy floundered. “I forgot, I meant to, um, finish reading a book on Mary Todd Lincoln. It’s good stuff.”

“Riiight,” Wyatt said, raising an eyebrow, still grinning. “Well, how about instead you let us make you breakfast?”

Lucy blinked. “What.”

“I said, let us make you breakfast.” He leaned in closer, comically looming in her space. “What are you hungry for?”

Faintly, behind her, she thought she could hear Flynn stifling a laugh. She couldn’t tell for sure, though, since she was too focused on how frozen she was, sandwiched between them. “Uh…” he brain wasn’t working. _Think, Lucy, think._ “Um…”

“How about pancakes?” Flynn suggested, his voice right next to her ear. She could feel his breath on her neck. “I’ve heard compliments on mine before.”

Swallowing back her discomfort—yep, that was all it was, discomfort—Lucy focused instead on her gratitude toward Flynn for saving her from… _whatever_ it was that Wyatt was doing. “Pancakes… would be great,” she said stiffly, hastening a firm retreat until she was sitting back at the breakfast table.

Flynn followed her though, putting a dent in her plans. “Don’t you want to help?”

“What?”

“Oh, I could make them by myself, but it’s not too much fun. And Wyatt is a disaster in the kitchen when it doesn’t involve a microwave or macaroni and cheese,” he rolled his eyes. Behind him, Wyatt was nodding in agreement at his own ineptitude. “Why don’t you give me a hand? Don’t want to burn them because Mister Hero over here doesn’t know how to keep an eye on batter.”

“Hey, I’m not that bad,” Wyatt finally protested.

She stood, feeling a wave of confusion wash over her. _I don’t know what’s going on, but it’s probably better just to roll with it,_ she convinced herself. _Eventually they’ll get bored of whatever..._ this _is, and go back to making out in Wyatt’s room. Please, for all that’s holy._ “Um. Sure,” her voice cracked.

“Great,” Flynn beamed.

It didn’t take much time for him to make the pancakes—in fact, he hardly needed her at all. Wyatt was sitting up on the counter next to them, watching contentedly, and she cursed herself for how many times her eyes went to how wide his legs were spread across the countertop. It didn’t escape her notice how many times Flynn’s eyes strayed over there, too.

What was this? Were they using her for their… weird flirtation? If so, she was going to make them regret it.

“Here,” Flynn cut into her thoughts. “You flip them.”

“Huh?”

“I’ll help.” So swiftly she hardly even processed it, Flynn was right behind her, his front pressed to her back and his hands folded over hers on the pan’s handle. Slowly, he leaned in to whisper in her ear. “Just do what I do.”

Lucy choked. On air. Audibly.

Abruptly, he was letting her go, his heat disappearing from her back as he instead dropped the pan. He placed a heavy hand on her shoulder. “Are you all right, Lucy?”

She was coughing now. “F-fine. I’m fine,” she rasped out.

Out of nowhere, a glass of water was being pushed into her hands. She took it, drank until she could breathe again, and let Wyatt take the glass back. “Is that better?” Wyatt asked anxiously.

“I’m okay,” she promised, moving back from them. Her eyes darted over to Flynn, who still looked worried, and for some reason his concern reminded her that she was angry. “Just what the hell do you think you’re doing, though?”

“What?” he blinked.

Lucy huffed out a breath, feeling her hurt spike to new levels at his faux-innocent act. “Do _not_ play dumb with me, Flynn. You two are being so… so _weird_! Look, I have been totally cool with you two getting together out of nowhere, all right, not to mention dangling it in front of my face for weeks, so if this is… I don’t know, some way to _make fun_ of me, I’m not interested!”

Before she could get any further in her rant—and, truth be told, she had much more to say—Wyatt was already in front of her, cupping a hand to her cheek. “That’s not what this is.”

“Then what?” she said. She meant for the words to come out as a snarl, to get him to back off, but instead they came out sounding like she was going to cry. Which she _wasn’t_, even if her eyes and throat seemed to think so. She swallowed harshly until the burning sensation behind her eyes went away, determined to be pissed off instead of upset.

“We…” he hesitated. “We—”

“We like you,” Flynn interrupted. “It just took us a while to realize you… liked us back.”

Lucy sent a glare his way, though inside she was feeling like an echo chamber. _They_ liked _her_? Still, she huffed. “It’s not like I wasn’t obvious about it!”

“Well… separately, you were,” he amended. “We just wanted to make sure you liked both of us… together.”

Confusion overwhelmed her. “What exactly are you saying?”

“We were trying to come on to you, Luce,” Wyatt burst out. “I mean… we were pretty obvious, too, y’know.”

“ ‘What are you hungry for’?” Flynn snickered at him.

“Don’t start,” Wyatt warned. He turned his attention back to Lucy, rubbing a thumb along her cheek affectionately before dropping his hand from her face. “Lucy, I promise, we weren’t… making fun of you or leading you on, or anything like that. I want this. _We_ want this. If you do, too.” 

She blinked, her eyes rapidly darting between him and Flynn. Both of them were smiling, their body language relaxed. For once, one wasn’t groping the other not-so-secretly. There was an easygoing attitude to them… something she’d missed while she’d been ignoring them. “I was jealous. And upset,” she said miserably.

“You don’t have to be,” Flynn said kindly. He reached forward and took her hand. “We don’t, either. This could be… good, don’t you think?”

In response, she paused and drank in the sight of their hands together. After a moment, she looked up at him, leaned forward, and kissed him. It was sweet, and slow, and nothing like what she’d imagined from him, but perfect. A throat cleared behind her, and she turned to find Wyatt with his arms crossed and his eyes sparkling. “You’ll get your turn,” she teased, turning to him and pressing her lips to his. Now, with Wyatt, his kiss was a bit more… heavy, the way she’d known it would be from the look in his eyes.

She was still caught up in the kiss, unaware of the way Flynn was looking at the two of them with a mixture of hunger and appreciation, when Denise breezed by them in the kitchen on her way to the living room, calling out over her shoulder, “Hey, lovebirds, your pancakes are burning.”

All three of them turned their attention to the pancakes, which were indeed burning, before swiveling their heads toward Denise, who looked utterly casual and utterly uninterested in their shenanigans. Unable to help herself, Lucy burst into laughter, followed by her two boys, and she wrapped her arms over both their shoulders as Flynn started cussing and turning off the stovetop. Wyatt was giggling right along with her, and Flynn was smiling despite himself.

They were right. This was gonna be good.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Feel free to leave a comment and let me know what you think :)


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